


The Night of the Fifty Year Day

by mvernet, Spencer5460



Category: Starsky & Hutch, Wild Wild West (TV)
Genre: Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Coming Out, Crossover, Crossover Pairings, Earthquakes, Evil geniuses, Historical References, Multi, Musicals, Science Experiments, Time Travel, Trains, armonicas
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-29
Updated: 2017-05-29
Packaged: 2018-11-06 10:02:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 15,626
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11033913
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mvernet/pseuds/mvernet, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Spencer5460/pseuds/Spencer5460
Summary: A late night breakdown leads to an unexpected meeting and a timeless adventure.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> A S&H/WWW/Brigadoon mashup.  
> When M and I get to chatting, you never know what ideas will pop in our heads.
> 
> *Song lyrics by Alan Jay Lerner

_“It’s snowing still,” sad Eeyore gloomily. “And freezing.”_  
_However,” he said, brightening up a little,_  
_“We haven’t had an earthquake.”_  
A.A. Milne

_There's a laddie weary, and wanderin' free,_  
_Who's waitin' for his dearie . . ._  
Alan Jay Lerner 

Was he crazy to think the old Galaxie had something against him? That it took perverse pleasure in breaking down on the darkest part of the road, on the foggiest night of the year? 

“As soon as we get back to civilization, I’m turning this traitor in for something slick and sporty.” Hutch cursed and slammed his palms against the steering wheel, which only served to sting his flesh and cause his passenger and partner, Artemus Gordon, to chuckle.

“Slick and sporty is not you, my boy. Besides, how could you work under cover driving something like that?” Artie said as he opened the passenger door and got out. He went around to the front of the dusty brown monstrosity to look under the hood while Hutch walked a few paces down the road hoping to spot another traveler. 

Artie usually had a knack for mechanical things. As a matter fact, Artie had a knack for just about everything. He could quote Shakespeare and design an explosive device with just five common household items. He could sway you with his silver tongue or knock you on your ass then assuage your wounded pride with a perfectly prepared crème brulee.

While Artie tinkered under the hood, Hutch continued to look for lights that would indicate a house – or more precisely, a phone - was nearby. The fog almost seemed alive, wrapping long, damp fingers around his feet and crawling up his legs. He hadn't gone more than a quarter of a mile when he heard movement in the brush.

He automatically reached for his Magnum but then remembered he had left it and his shoulder holster in the trunk of the Galaxie. After all, the purpose for this little road trip had been to get away from the stresses of their jobs. Wouldn't it be ludicrous, he thought, if after years of confronting thugs and murderers on an almost daily basis, he was done in by a wolf on a camping trip?

Hutch snorted at his own behavior and tried to gain some composure. He wished for a moment that Artie was beside him rather than back trying to salvage their hunk of junk. His rock-solid partner would be explaining the science of fog production or the evolution of white wolves. Just the thought calmed his frazzled nerves. But then he heard what sounded like singing and thought perhaps someone else might be wandering in the fog. The music was enchanting yet eerie and he strained his ears to make out the words.

_Waitin' for my dearie, an' happy am I ___  
_to hold my heart till he comes strollin' by._  
_When he comes, my dearie, one look an' I'll know_  
_That he's the dearie I've been wantin' so._

_Though I'll live forty lives till the day he arrives, ___  
_I'll not ever, ever grieve._  
_For my hopes will be high that he'll come strollin' by;_  
_For ye see, I believe_  
_That there's a laddie weary, and wanderin' free,_  
_Who's waitin' for his dearie - Me!*_

Just then a large figure stepped out onto the road ahead of him. Although he quickly realized it wasn't a wild animal but rather a horse and rider, Hutch froze in place. The man sat tall in the saddle as if he were born to it. The silver trim on the sleek animal’s bridle glimmered in the mist-shrouded moonlight. 

Hutch stood immobile as the graceful pair crossed his path and disappeared into the woods without giving Hutch any indication he’d been seen. When Hutch came to himself a few minutes later he called out, hoping to attract the man’s attention. Hearing no response, he scrutinized the darkness and attempted to follow them. But the horse and rider had vanished as mysteriously as they had appeared. 

After a few more minutes of fruitless searching Hutch made his way back to the car, not wanting to wander too far in the murky night. 

"Any luck?" Hutch asked as Artie straightened and brushed his hands against his pants.

"Dead as a doornail," Artie replied. "You?"

"I don't know. I saw a horse and rider but they apparently didn’t see me.” Hutch rubbed his brow, the presence of his partner helping to clear the fog that had curled in his mind. “There must be a ranch somewhere up the road."

"The way I see it, we have two options. We either try to find your cowboy and hope he has a phone or spend a cramped, cold night in this car," Artie stated. "But after three nights of sleeping on that cot that our fine Captain Dobey calls a bed, I'm pretty anxious to get back to civilization."

“We can’t be far from Tehachapi,” noted Hutch.

“I take it that’s a vote for option one?” Artie commented in his uniquely unflappable way.

“Yes, but before we head out I’m getting my gun.” Hutch opened the trunk and reached in to find the cool, comforting handle of his Magnum underneath the stack of sleeping bags, knapsacks and fishing gear.

“I swear, Hutch. Sometimes I think you wouldn’t visit your mother without taking that thing. A gun isn’t always the answer to every problem.”

“You haven’t met my mother,” Hutch grinned as he strapped the holster over his shoulder and adjusted his jacket.

It was true. As good of friends as they’d become during their time together on the police force, Artie knew little about Hutch’s background. Only that he came from a well-to-do family in Minnesota and had a wife who seemingly kept his balls in a bind. He only seemed to relax when he was able to get away as they had this past weekend. Artie wondered not if, but how much the gorgeous Mrs. Hutchinson would chew Hutch’s ear when they made it back. He sighed. Serene bachelorhood was more Artie’s style. More than that, he wouldn’t say.

Just before Hutch closed the trunk, Artie thought to grab his small army duffel bag. 

“Think you’re gonna need your bag of tricks just to find a phone?” Hutch teased his partner.

“One should always be prepared, my boy.” Artie responded as he arranged the bag on his shoulder. 

“Didn’t know you were a boy scout, Gordo.”

“Ahhhh. There are still a few things you don’t know about me, Hutch. One should always maintain an aura of mystery.” Artie waved his hand with a dramatic flair.

Hutch gave an appropriate snort, but didn’t disagree. 

They walked together in companionable silence for several miles before they stumbled upon a railroad crossing. Artie grabbed Hutch’s arm and pointed down the track to where an old-fashioned train sat stationary a few hundred yards back. It seemed to be comprised of a steam engine, a coal car and two additional cars - one for transporting goods or livestock and a varnish passenger car at the end. The varnish car had lights glowing in its windows.

“We must be close to Tehachapi. That train could be part of its Old Towne historical exhibit,” Artie surmised.

“Let’s go see if someone’s in there who could point us to a phone.” Hutch turned off the road follow the train tracks, feeling relieved, yet a little uneasy. As if the car's breakdown wasn't the only unusual thing about this night. 


	2. Chapter 2

It took only a minute for Hutch’s knock on the rear door of the car to be answered. It was swung open by an exceptionally good-looking man in his early thirties dressed in an elegant, blue bolero jacket over silk waistcoat that would have made a peacock proud. His matching slacks fit his well-shaped ass and muscled thighs like they’d been painted on.

“Who’s at the door?” a voice colored with a slight east-coast accent called from inside.

“I’m Ken Hutchinson and this is my partner, Artemus Gordon,” Hutch explained and Artie gestured as if he were tipping a cap. “Our old clunker broke down a few miles back and we’ll looking for a phone to call for help.”

“Clunker? Phone?” Their greeter seemed confused by the words but still managed not to look surprised by two men appearing at his doorstep in the middle of the night. In fact, Beefcake appeared so self-assured that Hutch doubted he was most likely never surprised by anything.

The man stepped aside to allow Hutch and Artie entrance to the train car. “We don’t have a phone but if it’s help you want, maybe we can assist,” he offered graciously.

Artie looked around the car and gave a low whistle. “This is quite a replica you have here.” The interior was sumptuously furnished in the Victorian style. Green velvet curtains trimmed with gold fringe hung at the windows. A gold velvet settee and matching chairs offered comfortable seating. In the corner was a gleaming Chippendale desk with a large map spread out across its top.

“It ain’t much but it’s home,” the second occupant of the passenger car winked at him. He was as good-looking as his companion but in a completely different way. Where the man in blue seemed refined and restrained, the other appeared bold and brash. He wore his white dress shirt loose and his dark hair wild. He’d been lounging on the settee but stood to extend a hand to Hutch.

“Dave Starsky,” he greeted. “And this here is my tight-lipped partner, James West.”

“Partners, is it? What a coincidence. Are you with the police force?” Hutch asked.

“Not exactly,” the man called Jim responded. “But we are in law enforcement.”

“Hutch and I are with the Bay City Police Department,” Artie offered.

“Bay City?” Dave queried.

“Just outside of Los Angeles,” Hutch explained. “We came out here to get away for the weekend and my old Ford decided to break down. Is there a phone nearby we could use?”

“I’m sorry gentlemen, but we don’t have a ‘phone’ – whatever that is – but you’re welcome to stay here for the night. Tehachepi is about eight miles down the road. You’ll travel much easier in the morning. We have plenty of room here, and you can put your horses in our other car.”

“Horses?” Artie choked out.

“We’re not traveling on horseback,” Hutch explained. He looked at Artie and a strange feeling tingled down his spine. It reminded him of the odd phrase his grandfather used to say. Something about feeling someone walking over his grave.

“Oh, well then, you’ll definitely want to wait until morning to go any further.”

Just then the railcar shuddered violently. A crystal decanter and set of glasses rocked dangerously on a shelf. Hutch grabbed a chair and Dave Starsky lurched toward the desk. Jim widened his stance to brace himself but Artie, holding on to his duffle for dear life, stumbled and hit his head on the mantel that protruded above the built-in fireplace.

“Another damn earthquake,” Dave Starsky growled when after a few seconds the ground stilled. 

Hutch was at Artie’s side before he could get all the way to his feet. “Are you alright, Gordo?” He asked, placing a supportive hand under his elbow.

“Nothing got hurt but my pride,” Artie gave Hutch a weak smile as his hand went to his head and came away with a streak of blood. 

Hutch didn’t remove his support as he was joined by Jim who helped Artie to the settee. 

“Starsk, see about getting a compress for his head.” Jim directed.

Artie tried to wave them off. “Don’t go to any trouble. It’s nothing.”

“Nothing hell!” Hutch retorted. “That felt like a damn earthquake!”

Jim and Starsky exchanged a quick look before Starsky headed off to the back room of the car.

“I’m afraid that’s just want it was, gentlemen,” admitted Jim. He knelt down next to Artie who had stretched out on the settee while Hutch hovered. 

“Great - a broken down car and an earthquake. Vanessa is never going to believe this one.” Hutch moaned.

“Vanessa is Hutch’s wife who’s waiting for him not so patiently back in Bay City.” Artie explained as Jim examined the injury to his head. He seemed to know what he was doing, so Hutch didn’t interfere.

“A wife, aye?” Starsky was back with a cool, damp cloth. Jim took the cloth from him and placed it gently on the side of Artie’s head where an angry red welt was emerging.

“Sometimes I think an earthquake might be easier to deal with,” Hutch admitted with a short laugh.

“Not this kind of earthquake.” Jim took a minute to look away from tending Artie. Rarely had Hutch seen a man with such restrained intensity. An emerald fire seemed to be burning deep in his eyes. Hutch realized if he was ever in a knock down, drag out fight, Jim was the man to have on his side.

“What do you mean?” Artie winced but allowed Jim to re-apply the compress. 

Starsky perched on the back of the settee like a favored cat. “These aren’t naturally occurring earthquakes. They’re being created by an evil genius. Dr. Miguelito Loveless to be exact.”

“Why would he want to do that?” Hutch asked.

Jim shrugged fatalistically. “Why does any man do anything? For power, prestige. And just because he can.”

“The why isn’t so much the mystery as the how. Dr. Loveless sent a letter to President Grant saying he’d destroy the whole of Southern California by earthquakes unless the land was handed over to him. He claims it was stolen from his family when California became a state and is rightfully his.”

Hutch had stopped listening to Starsky’s story mid-way through. “Did you say President Grant?”

Satisfied that he’d done as much for Artie’s injury as possible, Jim stood and walked over to a window with animalistic grace. “Yes. President Grant.”

ooOOoo

“Isn’t that a bit of ancient history?” Artie had sunk back into the settee and closed his eyes. But Hutch knew better than to think that meant he wasn’t following the odd conversation in detail.

"I think you need to sit down for this one." Starsky suggested.

Hutch took a seat, not liking the inscrutable look in the man's - up until now easy going - expression.

“What year do you think this is?” Starsky asked.

“What kind of question is that? It's 1973.”

Jim gazed out the window at something in the dark then turned back to Starsky and nodded.

“Not for us,” Starsky told him. “You're a hundred years ahead of us. We're living in 1873 to be exact.”

Hutch lurched out of the chair. “What kind of joke is this?” he demanded.

“Relax, buddy.” Artie replied from his reclined position. “This is just getting interesting. It certainly would explain the amazing quality of the reproductions around here.”

“They are no reproductions, Artemus.” Jim told him. “They’re the real thing. You see, two days ago Dr. Loveless . . ."

"The same man who is trying to destroy Southern California with earthquakes?" Artie interrupted.

Jim nodded. "Got us trapped in some kind of time warp. One of his crazy experiments gone wrong. The way we figure it, every fifty years a spasm in time causes us jump out of our continuum for twenty-four hours. Then, at the end of the day we go back to where we were."

Hutch wanted to think it was all crazy hoax but something in the man's demeanor told him otherwise. "What about us?"

"You two must have gotten caught in the spasm somehow." Starsky surmised.

"This is too much," Hutch dragged a hand through his hair and fell back into the gold upholstered club chair.

Artie smiled like the proverbial Cheshire cat. "Oh I don't know about that, my boy. You've been needing to get away. You can't get much further than this." He slowly raised himself to a sitting position with Starsky at his back lending a hand.

"How do we get back to our time?" Hutch asked.

"You never really left it." Jim stated. “We've just intersected somehow. In twenty four hours you'll be back in your time and we'll be back in ours. It'll be as if we'd never met."

Jim's explanation reassured Hutch but as he looked over to Starsky, it somehow saddened him too. Jim seemed pleasant enough, but the tousled-haired man who lounged like a cat on the back edge of the settee held an unusual fascination. Hutch had the strangest feeling he’d known him for years. It was as if they’d been linked in some way, almost like how he and Artie were tied together. By the dangerous job they shared. By the trust they had in each other, knowing that when the world pushed at them hard, they were each other's soft place to fall.

The train shuddered again, only this time not as violently as before and the men weren't taken so off guard. Hutch looked to Artie to make sure the quake hadn’t caused him further injury. Luckily, it hadn’t as far as he could tell. Although a few years his senior, Artie was a reliably tough nut.

In the fraction of a second that Artie and Hutch had traded unspoken appraisals, Starsky had looked up at Jim. "Isn't it about time we stopped the world from shaking?"


	3. Chapter 3

“What do you mean by that?” asked Hutch.

Jim was the one to answer. “He means it's time to go find Loveless.” 

Jim pressed a recessed button and a previously hidden panel on the back wall of the car lowered to reveal an impressive array of Civil War era weaponry in prime condition. Jim quickly and efficiently chose a gun and knives of various sizes. He hid one up his sleeve and bent to slip another in his boot.

Despite his head injury, Artie couldn’t resist a closer examination of the display. He went up to panel and his hand brushed almost lovingly over the ‘antiques.’ “Amazing,” he murmured.

“Yeah,” Starsky agreed. “And Jim happens to be an expert with every piece there.”

“What about you?” Hutch asked.

“I’m fair with a gun and my fists, but I’m also gifted with charm and charisma.” He winked and Jim laughed. Hutch surmised that the sound was rare, making it all the more appealing. 

“Charm and charisma can only get you so far,” Jim commented. “Remember that one time on the docks in ‘Frisco . . . “

“It gets me far enough,” Starsky inserted boastfully in an effort to cut short what promised to be a colorful story. “You and me both.” 

It was one story of many, no doubt. Hutch’s interest was piqued. He imagined himself sitting in the midst of his comrades in the evening, drink in hand, sharing tales of daring do. Once again he thought how glad he was to have left law school, even if it had burst Vanessa’s bubble. He wouldn’t have missed this adventure for the world.

“You’re not going after Loveless without us,” Hutch insisted, lifting his jacket to show the deadly Magnum suspended in his shoulder holster.

Starsky emitted an appreciated whistle while Jim looked from one to the other of them with fresh intensity, his eyes lingering on Artie.

“Like I said, we’re officers of the law, too, and pretty good at our jobs if I do say so myself,” said Artie. “I didn’t bring a gun, but I have a few talents of my own.” 

No one in the train car doubted him. 

“Dr. Loveless’s message to President Grant was to send a delegate to sign his terms. The meeting is to take place in Tehachapi dawn.” Starsky explained.

“That’s seems appropriate,“ Artie, the man who seemingly knew a little of everything, revealed. “Twenty years ago - that would be the 1950s for Hutch and I - Tehachapi suffered a massive earthquake that just about devastated the town. It sits practically in the middle of several major fault lines.”

“Fault lines?” asked Jim.

“Yes. Fault lines. They’re places where the earth’s tectonic plates rub together.” Artie explained patiently since Jim and Starsky seemed unfamiliar with the terms and the geologic principles. “It’s what causes earthquakes, gentlemen, despite what Dr. Loveless claims,” he added.

“Ha! You don’t know Dr. Loveless.” Starsky insisted. “I don’t care whether its tectonic plates or porcelain. I just know that whatever’s causing ‘em, Loveless is behind ‘em. When he announces one is about to happen, sure enough it does. Same as callin’ out the eight ball in the corner pocket. We just have to find out how.”

James West took the lead. “Starsky, I think you and Hutch should meet the doctor posing as President Grant’s delegates to deliver Southern California to him. Artie and I will follow behind and lay low. You keep him occupied while we to figure out how he’s causing the earthquakes and stop them.”

There was agreement all around.

ooOOoo

The sun was clearing the horizon and just starting to throw light on the sleepy little town of Tehachepi when Starsky and Hutch rode in, having left the train at the rail siding near the depot. Hutch had to admit he was fair on horseback, having spent plenty of time in the saddle as a youth on his grandfather’s farm. Starsky, on the other hand looked curiously uncomfortable for a man who spent as much time on horseback as he presumably did. 

“I'm a city slicker at heart,” Starsky admitted. 

“Then what are you doing out here?” 

“Taking care of Jim,” Starsky explained, raw affection in his voice. “I met Jim West in the army. He's one of a kind. When he was called to the secret service, I went along with him. We've been together ever since. I’ll go wherever I'm needed,” he added. “A man needs to be needed.”

The words, spoken with uncommon honesty, went straight to Hutch’s heart. Maybe that's what was wrong with his and Vanessa’s relationship. There was a wide river between want and need and he and his wife seemed to be standing on opposite sides. 

“Artie and I met in the police academy,” Hutch told him, pulling off the borrowed hat and wiping a bead of sweat that had started to form above his left eye. “He was one of the oldest cadets in our class. He’d been around some before he enrolled, doing this and that, but said he felt it was time for him to do police work. I guess he was looking for something to be part of, same as me. I don't know if he took me under his wing or I took him under mine. In any case, here we are.”

Hutch took in his surroundings. If he hadn't been convinced they were in 1873, he was now. The wooden framed dentist/barber shop, sheriff’s office, hotel and saloon looked straight out of a spaghetti western. 

They headed straight for the hotel and walked in. Starsky lost no time in addressing the scarecrow of a clerk seated behind the reception desk. 

“We’re looking for Dr. Miguelito Loveless.” 

Starsky’s announcement caused the man to tense as his small dark eyes darted from one to the other of them. “You must be the government men he’s expecting. He's in the restaurant having breakfast.” The clerk indicated a set of double doors to one side of the lobby with a tip of his head and Starsky nodded a curt thanks. 

They walked through the swinging doors and were quickly grabbed, frisked and relieved of their guns by two men who had been standing guard on either side of the entry. Both were so heavily muscled they could have easily been lumberjacks or blacksmiths. They stood inches over Hutch despite his own six foot plus height. 

The goon who had grabbed Hutch’s gun turned it over in his hands then held it up. “Get a load of this! I ain’t never seen nothin’ like this before.” 

“It’s from France,” Hutch said.

The restaurant was devoid of early morning diners except for a little person - a well-dressed man of indeterminate age - seated at a table across the room enjoying a plateful of ham and eggs. A napkin was tucked into his shirt collar. He looked up from his meal and squinted his eyes at the impressive piece. 

“Hold on to it for me, Carlo. I’ll take a closer look at it later. I have a particular interest in guns from France.” Hutch thought he saw a hint of a smile cross the little man’s face as he put extra emphasis on the last word.

An attractive, darked-haired woman sat at a table nearby in front of an odd instrument comprised of a row of bowl-shaped glass arranged horizontally on a spindle. Apparently she had been serenading the solo diner until they had been interrupted by Starsky and Hutch’s entrance. Now the little man nodded to her and she depressed a foot pedal attached to spindle causing it to rotate. She dipped her fingers into a bowl of water then touched her dampened fingers to the glass and a series of hauntingly beautiful tones filled the room. 

She began to sing a sweet soprano.

_Brigadoon, Brigadoon,_  
_Blooming under sable skies._  
_Brigadoon, Brigadoon,_  
_There my heart forever lies._ * 

Hutch stood and watched with fascinated admiration as the woman's graceful hands moved over the glass. 

_Let the world grow cold around us,_  
_Let the heavens cry above!_  
_Brigadoon, Brigadoon,_  
_In thy valley, there'll be love!_ * 

“I know that instrument,” Starsky indicated the spindle with its row glass as the music came to an end. “It's an armonica.”

“Very good Mr. Starsky,“ the little man confirmed. “And I thought all government men were dolts.” He took a sip of tea from a delicate china cup, savoring it with obvious pleasure. “More specifically, its called a hydrocrystalophone and I designed it myself. Doesn't Antoinette play it beautifully?”

The woman called Antoinette acknowledged the compliment by sending the dwarf an angelic smile. He stood and moved awkwardly to stand by her shoulder. She began to play once more and he joined her with a clear tenor of his own. 

_The mist of May is in the gloamin', and all the clouds are holdin' still._  
_So take my hand and let's go roamin' through the heather on the hill._  
_The mornin' dew is blinkin' yonder. There's lazy music in the rill,_  
_And all I want to do is wander through the heather on the hill._ * 

Hutch felt himself held spellbound by the music, the mesmerizing tones of the armonica bringing him back to the foggy woods and the song he’d heard just before he saw the horse and rider. He looked over to the dark haired cowboy and felt an odd sensation almost like longing, but he quickly brought his focus back to the unusual cast of characters before him. 

When the song concluded Dr. Loveless turned to Starsky and Hutch.

“Forgive my manners, gentlemen,” the man said, bowing deeply from the waist in a courtly manner. “Would you care for some tea? It’s made from the native wild flowers and it's truly delicious.”

 _So this is the infamous Dr. Loveless?_ Hutch thought. _Dangerous things come in innocuous packages._

Hutch walked over to sit in the offered chair and Starsky followed his lead. They were in no hurry. The longer they could delay here, the better. Hutch poured the steaming brew from a delicate teapot into the cup in front of him then poured for Starsky as well. He took a sip and nodded his approval. 

“You see, gentlemen?” said Dr. Loveless. “We don't have to be barbarians about this. I do apologize for my mishap of the other day, Mr. Starsky. But your train just happened to be at the wrong place at the wrong time - as it were - during my time portal experiment.” 

Despite his apologetic words, the man didn't seem sorry at all. In fact, he appeared practically giddy. 

“Of course, as long as either you or Mr. West don’t attempt to step out of your own time period, you’ll be just fine. But if either one of you tries it, both of you and the train will disappear in a puff of smoke. Poof!” Dr. Loveless clapped his hand together as gleefully as a child on Christmas morning. 

Starsky glowered while Hutch looked over at Antoinette to see her smiling at the little man indulgently.

“By the way, we haven't lost our devoted Mr. West already, have we?” Dr. Loveless asked as he looked to the guarded entrance. 

“He's in bed with the ague,” Starsky deadpanned. 

“Ken Hutchinson,” Hutch introduced himself before the little man said anything further. He offered his hand but Dr. Loveless suddenly looked at it with disdain, then proceeded to address them both sternly. 

“Don't think you can trick me, gentlemen. I've shown you that I can manipulate time. Don't think I can't do the same with land masses. So I suggest you give me what I want.”

"What you want is half the state of California,” Starsky reminded him pointedly. 

Dr. Loveless’ affable demeanor was transformed in an instant. “And why not!” He erupted, slamming his hands on the table’s surface hard enough to make the china tremble. “It was my inheritance until the government stole it from me!”

Hutch realized they were dealing with someone not altogether sane. Despite his size, the doctor was a very formidable man. Hutch knew their best course of action for the moment was to keep him talking. “Can't we come up with some kind of compromise?” 

“You take me for a fool? There'll be no compromise. I want what is mine or I'll send the land into the sea!” Dr. Loveless’ eyes glowed with insanity while Antoinette sat by placidly buttering a slice of bread. She broke a piece off and handed it to him. His tirade was interrupted for a moment while he popped the rich bread into his mouth and chewed. “Thank you, my dear,” he addressed Antoinette smoothly while Hutch watched their interaction with fascination. 

“Now let’s get on with it.” Dr. Loveless turned his attention back to Starsky and Hutch. “Do you have the paper I requested?” He demanded, referring to the document he was expecting from President Grant deeding the entire southern half of the State of California, from San Francisco to the southern border, to Miguelito Loveless. 

Starsky looked at Hutch and he nodded back. Despite the intensity of the moment, it struck him how they needed no words between them. Their brief exchange of glances had conveyed the entirety of the surreal situation -- the beautiful and enigmatic Antoinette, the mad little doctor, the mysterious earthquakes and how the fate of half of the state lay before them. 

Starsky reached into his jacket pocket, pulled out an envelope and handed it across the table to Dr. Loveless. The doctor opened the envelope and unfolded the paper from inside with obvious glee. But as he got to the end of the document his eyes narrowed and he tossed the paper to the ground. 

“Do you take me for a fool?” He stood and faced them. “This is a cheap forgery. A child could have done better!” Color spread upward from beneath his collar until his entire face was stained red. “Don’t you believe that I can create earthquakes on command? I guess I'll just have to prove it to you!”


	4. Chapter 4

Dr. Loveless snapped his fingers and the two burly guards stepped forward instantly. Before they could react, one grabbed Hutch and the other went for Starsky. Hutch’s arm was wrenched painfully behind his back, leaving him helplessly off balance. He knew Starsky was experiencing the same treatment. Their hands were trussed up tightly and efficiently and they were maneuvered out to the back of the hotel and forced roughly into the back of a wagon.

Dr. Loveless followed in his odd, stilted gait along with Antionette bringing along the strange glass instrument. They climbed into a carriage brought for them and started off at a trot while the buckboard carrying Starsky and Hutch bumped along behind. 

Hutch gritted his teeth against the bone-jarring pain. “And I thought my old Galaxie gave a rough ride,” he tried to joke.

“Your what?” huffed Starsky.

“My . . .” he turned slightly to look at Starsky lying so closely beside him that Hutch’s elbow thrust sharply into the other man’s ribs with every bump. “Never mind.” 

“Don’t worry,” Starsky said after a few minutes.

“I’m not,” Hutch assured him.

“I know this looks bad, but I got confidence.”

“I do, too,” Hutch responded. “This isn’t the first tight spot I’ve been in.” 

“Yeah, me too. I’m no slouch, but I mean, I got confidence in my partner. Jim’s out there somewhere and he won’t let me down.”

Hutch let that sink in. He knew exactly what Starsky meant. 

“Yeah,” Hutch said. There were partners and then there were partners. People you could count on no matter what. People you could trust to never give up, never let you down. People you could hang your life on no matter what century you were in.

“It’s like that for you too, huh?” Starsky asked rhetorically, seeming to read his mind.

About an hour outside of town, the wagons stopped near a rocky outcropping that rose up above the surrounding rolling hills. The two muscle-bound guards pulled Starsky and Hutch out of the buckboard and hauled them to their feet. They swayed toward each other as they steadied themselves. 

Hutch did his best not to scan their position. In this secluded area there seemed to be no one around for miles. Yet Jim and Artie were out there somewhere. He could feel it even more than his throbbing bones.

“I trust the ride wasn’t too uncomfortable, gentlemen.” The little man’s words were laced with sarcasm.

“We’ll survive,” grumped Starsky. 

“For the moment anyway,” Dr. Loveless teased then went to help Antoinette with the armonica. Once the instrument had been set up he looked around them and breathed deeply, taking in the scenery. “Such a peaceful, lovely place, don’t you think?”

“Yes, Miguelito,” Antoinette demurred.

“Mr. Hutchinson, I do believe you’d get a much better view over there,” Dr. Loveless pointed near the outcropping and nodded to one Carlo. The bruiser jerked Hutch’s arm and led him to the spot the doctor had indicated, then stepped several feet back. 

Once Hutch was in position, Dr. Loveless began to caress the glass of the armonica with stubby fingers. But instead of producing the hauntingly beautiful tones of a short while ago, it emanated sounds that were painfully shrill. Antoinette clapped her hands to her ears and Hutch would have done the same had he had been able. 

Suddenly the earth beneath their feet trembled and rocks from the outcropping groaned. Stones began to rain down on Hutch and he curled into himself in an attempt to protect his head. Then Starsky dove at him, using the force of his body to push him out of the way of the larger rocks that were starting to break free. They both landed hard on the ground as a deadly cascade thundered mere inches away. Then everything went dark. 

When Hutch opened his eyes, the mid-morning sun nearly blinded him with a piercing light. He squeezed his eyes closed tightly to shut out the pain but then heard Starsky’s voice above him.

“Hutch . . . “ Starsky coughed out.

Hutch reopened his eyes and saw Starsky’s face full of concern above him. “S’okay.” Despite the daggers in his head, he fought to sit up while Starsky did his best to assist him with a nudge of his shoulder. Hutch heard Starsky’s grunt of pain reverberate through his back. It was then that Hutch noticed Starsky’s shirt sleeve ripped and stained with blood. 

The twisted little man’s face remained placid. Antoinette’s expression held a hint of sadness but little more. They’d get no help from her.

Hutch cursed the bonds that kept him from running his hands over Starsky to check his injuries as they both struggled to stand. His vision blurred, he pulled furiously at the ropes around his wrists, but his struggles only caused more pain to shoot up and down his arms. Once on his feet, the horizon continued to spin. Only Starsky’s hands at his elbow kept him upright. 

“Such gallantry, Mr. Starsky.” Dr. Loveless tsked. “You could have lost your life by saving someone you barely know.”

 _Barely know?_ The inference rang hollow. They traded glances and Hutch knew Starsky felt the same. As if they had known each other for years. The same way Hutch instinctively knew that Starsky was the kind of man who wouldn’t hesitate to join the fight for any worthy cause. 

“That was just a little demonstration of what I can do with my specially designed armonica. Ingenious, don’t you think? It can be such a pleasant, harmless thing, but if played in just the right way it can wreak devastation for miles,” Dr. Loveless gloated.

“Now Mr. Starsky, I suggest you go back to your president and tell him what I can do. He either gives me Southern California or I send it crashing into the sea.” The little man’s eyes blazed with the an erratic light. “And since you seem so fond of him, I’ll keep Mr. Hutchinson with me for a little added insurance until my demand is met.”


	5. Chapter 5

Jim and Artie had observed the scene from a discreet distance. They’d heard the fearsome shrieks from the armonica, felt the ground move and seen the rockslide nearly kill their comrades. 

“That little devil is creating sonic vibrations with that instrument strong enough to affect the natural fault lines here!” Artie exclaimed. He had wanted to charge in like the cavalry but Jim held him back with nerves of steel. 

“What do you mean?” 

“Sound waves. That’s what’s making the earthquakes. We have to get that thing away from him.” And Hutch and Starsky, too. But the thought didn’t need saying.

“It’s too soon to show our hand. Dr. Loveless is as clever and dangerous as they come. We can’t rush in without a plan.”

As much as he hated it, Artie knew Jim was right. They had to wait patiently for their moment. Too much was at stake. 

ooOOoo

The little windowless room where Hutch had been dumped was dark and stuffy. He sunk to the floor and leaned his throbbing head against a wall. It felt as if every part of his body had been bruised. He was pretty sure he had a concussion. He was nauseous and dizzy, but at least the darkness was soothing to his eyes. He knew he had to try to stay awake.

His hands had been kept bound and he could no longer feel his fingers. He tried to wiggle them to work on the unyielding knots, but it was no use. His right wrist was broken. He breathed through the pain and was almost relieved as the numbness returned. 

He and Artie had dealt with a lot of sick people but Dr. Loveless wasn’t just sick, he was an evil genius - as hokey as that sounded. He wondered where Starsky, Artie and Jim were and how long it might be until he was rescued. They would come - of that he was certain. He just hoped it would be before his hands were rendered permanently useless. 

He knew of course, their first priority would be getting the earthquake-maker. But if they didn’t return to the train in by nightfall, would he and Artie be stuck in 1873 forever? Or would they just cease to exist? All things considered, the first option didn’t seem so bad, but the next was beyond imagining. 

What would Vanessa think if he didn’t return? Would she worry herself sick? Cry herself to sleep? Hutch’s bitter laugh was muffled by the plank wall. She’d probably throw all his things out in the street, cursing him to hell thinking he’d gone off into the woods like a modern day Henry David Thoreau. She’d find another lover in a week. 

He felt his heart ache along with everything else. He easily admitted to himself now that her love was a transitory thing and he’d never expected more. Whether the weakness was in her or in him, he couldn’t say. But his relationship with Artie had shown him that he could be worthy of friendship, loyalty and devotion. In many ways, their closeness had made up for the emotional intimacy that was missing in his marriage.

Then there was Starsky. Their connection had been almost immediate. As if they’d known each other from another time, another place. It made him consider that if time travel was really possible, perhaps this wasn’t his first trip. He laughed weakly at the preposterousness of it all. Maybe he was still in 1973 Bay City and he’d just had too much to drink. Or maybe this was all a bad dream, he thought, as the darkness closed in. 

oooOOooo

Jim paced restlessly in the varnish car, yet experience made him reluctant to leave until they heard from either Starsky or Hutch. Staying put was better than rushing off half-cocked. For the time-being, there was nothing to do but wait. 

Meanwhile, Artie reverently bowed a few carefully chosen notes on the Stradivarius he’d noticed setting on a shelf. The “fiddle” had been a gift from a grateful concert violinist after Starsky and Jim had saved his life. Jim had said that Starsky could play a bouncy rendition of The Turkey in the Straw if he was in the mood.

Artie’s hand trembled at the thought of holding an original Strad but he couldn’t resist the temptation. Besides, the music seemed to soothe the ever pensive James West.

As Jim strode across the room, Artie tried not to show how he was affected by the exquisite figure outlined by the tight pants and bolero jacket. He may not be able to resist the priceless violin, but James West was a temptation Artie truly couldn’t afford.

Artie’s attraction to men was a deeply private matter. Even Hutch, despite their many long stakeouts spent discussing life and love and longing, he’d kept in the dark. In this, Artie commended himself on his ability to fool all of the people all of the time. 

Artie tucked the violin securely under his chin. leaving Jim to his pacing and planning. He was a stranger in a strange land. The instrument’s balance was perfect, the strings like taut strands of finest silk. He started to play a haunting melody of a love song then added his polished baritone to the sounds of the strings.

_This is hard to say, but as I wandered through the lea,_  
_I felt for just a fleeting moment that_  
_I suddenly was free of being lonely._  
_Then I closed my eyes and saw the very reason why._

_I saw a man with his head bowed low._  
_His heart had no place to go._  
_I looked and I thought to myself with a sigh:_  
_There but for you go I._

_I saw a man walking by the sea,_  
_Alone with the tide was he._  
_I looked and I thought as I watched him go by:_  
_There but for you go I._

_Lonely men around me, trying not to cry,_  
_Till the day you found me, there among them was I._  
_I saw a man who had never known a love that was all his own._  
_I thought as I thanked all the stars in the sky:_  
_There, but for you, go I._ * 

Half-way through the song, Jim stopped pacing and came to stand before Artie, quietly studying him. Artie had closed his eyes as the last notes hung in the air, vaguely aware of Jim’s scrutiny. Without a word, Jim took the violin and returned it to its velvet lined case. Then he reached out to gently touch Artie’s cheek.

“Beautiful,” Jim murmured. He leaned in to take Artie’s lips with his. 

Stunned, Artie stepped back, grateful that Jim had had the foresight to take the Stradivarius from him or else he may have dropped it. How had this stranger deduced Artie’s most closely-guarded secret? A secret he kept even from his dearest friend. Was it possible that Jim was the same breed as himself? He marveled at his boldness and self-confidence. 

“How did you know?” Artie asked, his breath caught in his throat.

“I’m not sure exactly. I just . . .knew. Practically from the moment you walked in.” Jim answered him, although his lips never stopped their exploration. They nuzzled into Artie’s neck, then bit his earlobe.

“I believe in going after what I want. I’ve been with others where twenty-four hours was too much time. But we have only a few hours to be together. I wanted you to know how I felt before it was too late.” 

Artie quickly wrapped his arms around Jim’s slender waist and pulled him in close enough to feel his astonishing arousal. He returned the commanding kiss and moaned as an intensity of emotion rushed from his heart throughout his body. It was like wild dream and he didn’t want to wake up.

He was tempted to think it was the surreal nature of the situation and his helpless concern for Hutch that made him feel like he was floating, disconnected from reality. Yet he’d never felt more alive. In so many places, Bay City included, he felt he was just passing through. Yet in a train called ”Wanderer” he felt as if he’d come home.

“Jim, what’s happening here? Am I crazy?”


	6. Chapter 6

The question went unanswered as a horse's whinny and the sound of hurried boots on the train steps made them pull apart and look towards the door. Starsky bolted in out of breath, his clothes in disarray and arm bloodied.

Jim rushed to his partner’s side and gripped his shoulders. “Starsk! What happened?”

“Where’s Hutch? Is he hurt?” Artie voiced his own concern.

Jim forced Starsky to sit while he went to take off his vest and shirt, but Starsky pushed him away.

“It’s just a scratch, Jim. Don’t fuss. He’s got Hutch. Loveless has got Hutch and we have to got to get him back.”

Starsky moved to rise but Artie joined with Jim to hold him down. He could see how the rocks’ jagged edges had left deep, vicious lacerations in Starsky’s upper arm. But once tended they should heal. 

“Take it easy now and tell us what happened,” Artie said as Jim went for some medical supplies. “I take it Loveless didn’t fall for the forged letter?”

Stasky shook his head. “He tied me and Hutch up and threw us in a wagon. Next thing I knew we were taken to a rocky bluff. He played some notes on this glass armonica thing and then rocks started fallin'. I pushed Hutch out of the way, but both of us got hit. Hutch got knocked out for a minute but then seemed alright, but I’m not sure. We both got pretty banged up.”

Artie ran a hand over his face, his fear on Hutch’s behalf growing. “We saw all that but couldn’t do a thing to stop it. I’m so sorry.”

The look of understanding Starsky gave him helped to ease the tightening in Artie’s chest, but his next words brought the discomforting sensation roaring back. “He kept Hutch as a hostage. He still wants President Grant to give him Southern California. Or he said he’ll destroy it and so much more.”

Jim returned to kneel by Starsky’s side. “Artie said the sounds Loveless makes with the glass instument is what’s causing the earthquakes,” he said as he applied a disinfectant and bound the ugly wounds. “We need to get the armonica.”

Starsky looked to his partner as Jim finished up bandaging his arm and gave his hand a pat. “No kiddin’. But what’s the plan?”

“We need a way to get a closer look at the armonica.”

“Sure, maybe we could just waltz back in there and ask him hand it to us.” Starsky snorted. “He bragged he designed it himself.”

“That’s part of his warped personality,” Jim told Artie. “He’s a show-off as much as genius.” 

“A show-off, aye? I may have an idea.”

ooOOoo

Artie picked up his his duffel and emptied it out onto the desk - a flashlight, book of matches, a water bottle, an Instamatic camera. Jim draped an arm across his back as he peered at the strange, futuristic wonders. He impulsively picked up the camera and took a few snap shots of the Wanderer and its wild west inhabitants. He tucked the Instamatic in his jacket pocket for future candid shots.

Artie studied the assortment then picked up a boxy Panasonic cassette tape recorder from among the treasures. Jim’s eyebrows rose at the sight of the strange silver and black box with its rectangular row of buttons on one end. Artie pressed the play button with a loud “snick-clunk” and music filled the air. 

_What a day this has been_  
_What a rare mood I'm in_  
_Why it's almost like being in love.*_

Artie pressed the stop button. “Panasonic, just slightly ahead of our time,” he explained. Jim and Starsky exchanged puzzled looks as the joke felt flat. 

Artie gave a small shrug and cleared his throat. “Gentlemen. This is a tape recorder. It records music or voices on this little cassette you can see in the window and plays it back.”

Artie quickly changed to a blank tape and pressed ‘record.’ 

Jim was intrigued. “Artie, this is amazing! What makes it work anyway?”

Starsky struggled up from the couch for a closer look. “Uhhhh. Artie, your geegaws are dandy, but I’d rather we had a cannon so I can blast that little sucker to hell.”

Artie stopped the tape, rewound it and pressed play.

_Artie, this is amazing! What makes it work anyway?_

_Uhhhh. Artie, your geegaws are dandy, but I’d rather we had a cannon so I can blast that little sucker to hell._

“Maybe we can fight fire with fire. Sounds like our fine doctor wouldn’t be able to resist the opportunity to show off his invention to another scientist with a sound machine. Look, Loveless doesn’t know me. I could go in posing as a scientist . . .” 

“I don’t like it, Artie,” Jim quickly interjected. “It’s too dangerous.” 

“Too dangerous for whom?” Artie asserted fiercely. “That’s my partner who’s locked up and if we don’t get to him soon, we all might go the way of Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid. Not to mention the whole of Southern California.” 

Jim looked from Artie to Starsky, who gave him a little shrug. 

ooOOoo 

Hutch’s head was pounding and his depressing thoughts weren’t helping. Bouts of nausea had left him sweating with exhaustion. He decided to start to work at loosening the ropes around his wrists, in part because the intense pain it caused helped to keep him awake, but also because he had begun thinking that maybe it was time for him to stop accepting circumstances as they were. 

He twisted his hands fiercely against the knots, biting his lip from the pain and hoping the fresh flow of blood might lubricate the knots. He tried not to think of how weak he was growing. He wasn’t sure he could overpower even Loveless in the state he was in. As he worked, he thought he heard the sounds of the armonica drifting to him along with the voice of Dr. Loveless. A pure, sweet tenor. It was as if everything good in the man had been stripped from his soul and put into his singing. 

_Come to me, bend to me, kiss me good day_  
_Darlin', my darlin', 'tis all I can say_  
_Just come to me, bend to me, kiss me good day_  
_Give me your lips and don't take them away_

_Come dearie near me, so ye can hear me_  
_I've got to whisper this softly_  
_For though I'm burnin' to shout my yearnin'_  
_The words come tip-toein' off me_

_Oh, come to me, bend to me, kiss me good day_  
_Darlin', my darlin', 'tis all I can say_  
_Just come to me, bend to me, kiss me good day_  
_Give me your lips and don't take them away.*_

__It would be so easy to give in to the blackness that was swirling just beyond his senses. As much as he wanted to be rescued, save California and go home with Artie, he was starting to dread the thought of leaving Starsky behind. Maybe it was because of the romantic images the song evoked. He fell into a doze, losing track of time altogether._ _


	7. Chapter 7

Artie rode up to the Tehachapi Hotel and dismounted as easily as if he’d done it a thousand times. Wearing a two-toned, fringed suede jacket and tan hat Jim had provided, along with a bolo tie around his neck, he looked just like any other western traveler. Although no one could possibly guess how far he’d come, he mused grimly. 

Allowing himself no hesitation, he strode into the hotel and tossed his saddlebag on the front desk. 

“I’d like a room,” he announced.

“We’re full up,” the clerk responded dully, barely lifting his eyes from his dime novel.

Artie puffed up with indignation. “Full up? Then I suggest you just make room, my good man. Any hotel worthy of its name would be honored to have me as a guest.” 

“Well, then why don’t you just go on to the next town and let some other hotel have the honor.”

Artie was undeterred. He was encouraged, in fact. Making a scene just happened to be his forte.

“You obviously have no idea who I am. Well, let me instruct you,” Artie’s voice grew in volume until it practically bounced off the lobby walls. “I am Professor Barnabas Finkelmeier of the California Institute of Acoustical Engineering. World famous musician and creative genius extraordinaire.” 

“What is the meaning of this? Who is this … person?”

Bingo. Dr. Loveless appeared at the top of the stairs with the serenely loyal Antoinette at his side. They were just as Starsky had described.

The hapless clerk looked up to them and started in nervously. “Well, sir…”

“How many times have I told you? No solicitors! Take him outside and get rid of him!” 

“Solicitor? How dare you!” Artie stormed. “I am Professor Finkelmeier of the California Institute of Acoustical Engineering. You can’t possibly be Dr. Miguelito Loveless. Surely such a genius has heard of me.”

“Heard of you?” Loveless’ curiosity, as well as his vanity seemed piqued as he started down the stairs. His short legs causing him to pitch awkwardly while Antoinette kept a gentle hand on his elbow to steady him. “I may have, but I've been away from academia for quite some time.”

“So I’ve heard.” Artie continued to played the role he'd rehearsed in his head. “I understand you’ve been researching sound waves and I thought we might collaborate. I have an invention myself I think you might enjoy.”

Artie wasted no time in opening his bag and placing the tape recorder on the desk. He glanced sideways at Loveless who by now was following his every move with intense curiosity. Next, Artie took out the violin. He pressed ‘record’ on the Panasonic and struck up a lively Irish jig on the Strad. 

After a few bars he stopped and took a bow. Antoinette clapped with pleasure while Loveless merely scowled. But when Artie pressed rewind and then play, Loveless’ eyes grew wide at the sound of recorded music that filled the room. 

Antionette brought a delicate hand to her mouth. “Oh! How wonderful!”

Loveless snorted. “Wonderful? This is incredible! The music is exactly how you played it a moment ago! This is indeed an amazing invention, Professor. You must show me how it works.”

Artie bowed again. “Thank _you_ , madam. Thank you, sir. But this is just a mere toy compared to what I’ve heard you have designed, Doctor.”

“And just what have you’ve heard, Professor?”

In my circles there are rumors you’ve designed an armonica that can create truly spectacular sounds. Sounds that can move mountains, as it were! I’ve traveled all the way from San Francisco to hear it.” 

Artie watched a self-satisfied glow brighten Dr. Loveless’s face. Hie was relieved his flattery was enough to keep the little megalomaniac too distracted at the moment from asking how the recorder worked. Artie had had second thoughts about possibly giving away knowledge of the future to a mad scientist. He’d read enough science fiction to know that kind of thing was always a bad idea. But he’d decided to take the chance.

“Well, I must admit I’m rather proud of it. And Antoinette plays it so beautifully.” The tiny man lifted one of Antoinette’s hands and brought it to his lips in a courtly and affectionate kiss. ”You really must show him, my dear.”

Antoinette blushed. “If you insist, Miguelito.” Her full skirt swished as she turned and walked to the dining room. The doctor followed in his peculiar, rocking gait with Artie close behind. 

The glass armonica was set on a stand guarded by two threatening looking men. The men who had overpowered Starsky and Hutch, Artie thought grimly. The muscles that bulged under their shirtsleeves made it easy to see why. While Artie could hold his own in a fight, he tended to prefer using his wits to overcome his opponents. With his own particular defensive weapons, he found he came out ahead frequently enough. But this siege was the most important he’d ever fought. Everything was on the line, beginning with Hutch and California and ending with his own sanity. 

Antoinette settled herself before the row of bowl-shaped glass arranged horizontally on a spindle and dipped her fingers into a bowl of water nearby. She touched her dampened fingers to the glass and a series of hauntingly beautiful tones filled the room. 

Artie found himself mesmerized. He thought he might possibly be hearing the sound of angels’ wings. Dr. Loveless looked on with a wide, prideful smile as if watching the birth of his own child. 

The music nearly made Artie forget his role. Just in time, however, he crossed his arms over his chest and set a bored expression on his face. When the melody came to an end, he nodded politely at Antoinette who hands came to rest in her lap. “Quite nice, but I must admit I’ve heard better. The notes are a bit tinny.”

“Impossible!” The little man sputtered. “This is the finest instrument of its kind in the world.”

Artie tsked and shook his head. “I’m sorry, sir. I’m afraid to say I’m a bit disappointed. I was hoping to hear something truly unusual. I’m a connoisseur of acoustics. I’ve traveled all over the world to capture the finest sounds worthy of my recording device. And this just doesn’t qualify.” He gestured limply with his hand.

His act of disdain caused Dr. Loveless to break into a fit of apoplectic rage.

“I’ll have you know my armonica has properties you can’t possibly imagine!” He nudged Antoinette aside and laid his fingers on the glass. “Listen and observe.” He started the spindle turning and as Dr. Loveless’s stubby fingers caressed the glass, it let out a high-pitched hum that nearly made Artie cover his ears. 

Within seconds the floor started to shift and the restaurant tables wobbled, along with Artie’s heart. When Dr. Loveless stopped, so did the ground’s movement. 

“What do you think of that?” The tiny doctor asked smugly. 

oooOOooo

Hutch came awake and opened his eyes. His vision was still blurred, his pain still sharp. It started at his wrists that were tied behind him and streaked up his arms, flooding his consciousness. His ears rang with a high-pitched hum. He found himself trembling and cursed his weakness. Or was it the room that shook? In the small, dark prison he struggled to pull his thoughts together. 

He remembered a man’s blue eyes lit with concern and caring. But Artie’s eyes are brown. Suddenly everything came back to him. The train, the wagon ride, the earthquake and rock slide. He was in the past and Artie was out there somewhere. With Starsky and Jim and . . . Dr. Loveless. The evil genius who could make the most destructive music. 

They had to stop Loveless.

A rattling of the door knob broke the silence of the room and a beam of light cut through the darkness. Hutch found himself excruciatingly blinded once more and shrunk back against the furthest wall. He waited for a painful tug on his aching arms that didn’t come. Instead, the light beam was aimed down and he was lifted into a gentle embrace. 

“Easy there.” It was the voice he was afraid he’d only imagined. The voice he’d wanted most to hear.

“Starsky?”

“Yeah, it’s me.”

“Starsky? Are you real?”

“Last I checked. I’m gonna get you outta here, buddy. Don’t you worry your pretty blond noggin about it. I got a knife here. Gonna cut ya loose.”

Starsky set the flashlight down and took Hutch’s arm to turn him. Hutch hissed at the touch.. “I… I… think my wrist might be broken.” 

“Sorry. Sorry, blondie.” Starsky dropped his arm immediately. His fingers strayed up to run through Hutch’s hair. “Feels like a mighty big goose egg you got there. You hurt anywhere else?” 

Hutch shook his head gingerly but couldn’t keep a groan from escaping. 

Starsky brushed his brow with what almost felt like a kiss. “I’m gonna get you outta here, Hutch. Trust me. Nobody else is gonna hurt ya.” 

Hutch squinted to see Starsky’s face. Past, present and future seemed to mingle together in the shadowy depths of the other man’s eyes. For a moment his pain faded and he felt as if he was free floating. He closed his eyes and leaned into Starsky’s touch, practically humming at the sensation.

“That’s good, Starsk. That’s real good. Where… where’s Artie and… Jim?”

“We got a plan to save the world, Hutch. But I’m gonna save you first, if ya don’t mind.” 

Starsky helped him turn around so that he could get a better angle on the ropes that bound Hutch’s hands.

“I don’t mind at all, Starsk. Ohhhh. Ahhhhh. My… wrist.” 

“Damn. I’m sorry.” Starsky cut through the ropes as if he were operating on butterfly wings while Hutch held his breath. But a few minutes later he had succeeded. 

“There!” Starsky announced. “You’re free.”

Hutch brought his arms in front of him and felt the stabs of pins and needles as blood began to flow.

“Careful now,” Starsky warned. “Let me look at your wrist.”

Starked picked up the flashlight and aimed it at Hutch’s hands. Hutch turned away from the light and felt gentle fingers push and prod.

“Quite a thing this… watchamacallit,” Starsky commented.

“Flashlight.” Hutch winced.

“Let me get your arm in a sling and we’ll get outta here, alright?”

“Can’t be too soon, pard.” 

Hutch caught Starsky’s grim expression in the narrow beam of light. Starsky took a handkerchief to bind Hutch’s broken wrist, then produced a larger bandana to use as a sling. Hutch tried not to cry out, but couldn’t help gasp as Starsky tightened the bindings. 

“Easy. Easy. You take a minute to rest, then we’ll go.” Starsky touched Hutch’s cheek and Hutch was grateful for the shadows that hid the expression he thought must surely be on his face. He knew if Starsky could see him, his rescuer would be able to read too much of Hutch’s mind.

Then Hutch heard more unearthly music come from below. The room began to shake with growing ferocity and knew they couldn’t delay long. 

ooOOoo

“Now that is truly amazing,” Artie admitted when the ground ceased its rolling. He approached the armonica in a show of greater enthusiasm. “You must tell me how you do it.”

“Well you see,” Dr. Loveless started, obviously pleased that Artie was finally showing the admiration he craved, “physics is a specialty of mine. I’ve been studying the properties of time and sound to see how they might overlap.”

Artie tapped his finger to his chin. “Fascinating doctor. Do go on.”

“One day I plan to harness time travel. I’ve been dabbling in it and have been successful at making objects hop between time periods. But it's erratic. Only recently I’ve been able to control the power of sound waves. Just as waves crash on rocks, breaking them down over time to become sand, certain sounds have enough power to break apart the very ground where we’re standing.”

“And you’ve managed to identify and produce the exact tones at will? I see. Remarkable.” Artie leaned closely over the shapes of glass then pulled a pair of spectacles from an inside pocket of his jacket to perch them on his nose. “But as I said, the instrument sounds rather tinny. Perhaps it could use an adjustment.”

He produced a metal tuning fork from another pocket and struck it against his palm causing the tines to vibrate.

“No no!” Dr. Loveless shouted as he lounged for the fork. “The vibrations will affect my armonica. The slightest change in pitch means the difference between a creating ripple in a pond or a quake big enough to flatten the Grand Canyon!”

Artie lifted the vibrating fork above his head, easily out of Dr. Loveless’s reach. The two guards at the door tensed but held their places. Antoinette stepped back, as if she’d learned that the only way to survive her companion’s outbursts was by staying gracefully detached. 

“Nonsense,” Artie said dismissively. He moved the tuning fork closer the bowls and they began to resonate from the vibrations of the fork. “I’m only making a few minor improvements.” 

In reality, Artie had a vague notion of what he was doing. An officer in the traffic division had once shown him how a tuning fork was used to calibrate radars and Artie had been so fascinated he’d gotten one to study for himself. Serendipity had caused the fork to end up in his duffle and he thought it might be of use in his role as an acoustics expert. The plan was to distract the strange doctor long enough for Starsky to get Hutch, then James would step in.

Artie felt confident he could handle Dr. Loveless as long as Jim served as his backup. Jim had told him to leave the heavy lifting to him. Heavily muscled guards with guns hung low on their hips apparently held little threat to a man like James West. But seeing Dr. Loveless’ instrument of destruction for himself, Artie knew he couldn't leave well enough alone. 

He might lose his chance to make it back to his own time, but he intended to do what he could to preserve Jim’s. 

The glass bowls began a strange humming that quickly raised in pitch and volume. The floor of the hotel began to rock with more ferocity than before. The walls and ceiling above them groaned ominously and a heavy, framed picture crashed to the floor. 

“Stop you fool!” Dr. Loveless shouted as Antoinette clapped her hands over her ears. The two guards traded looks of confusion, weighing their loyalty to their diminutive employer against their personal safety. 

But Artie could do nothing to stop what had been set in motion. The sound waves emanating from the armonica had taken on a life of their own, picking up the vibrations of the tuning fork and transferring energy to the structure around them. 

Artie hugged the fork to his jacket to dampen it but the humming of the armonica continued. It turned to screeching like a bat winging its way through the caverns of hell. The ceiling splintered above them and a hunk of plaster came down inches from where they stood. 

“Miguelito, we must leave!” Antoinette insisted. She grabbed for his arm but he shook her off. 

“Hector, take the armonica!” Dr. Loveless called to one of the guards. “Carlo,” he addressed the other, “get the recording device and make sure Professor Finkelmeier - or whatever his name is - doesn’t leave until we’ve gone.” 

Artie and Carlo both made a grab for the Panasonic tape recorder on the table but Carlo reached it first. A meaty fist connected with Artie’s eye, and an explosion went off in his head just before everything went black.

ooOOoo

“Artie, Artie.” A soft voice called to him through a gauze-like haze. Artie found himself laying on the ground and felt strong hands gripping his shoulders. “He’s coming to,” the voice said.

“Artie?” This voice was more familiar. 

“Hutch?” 

“Yeah, it’s me. How are you doing, pal?”

The dull throb in Artie’s head and his returning vision assured him he was still among the living. He saw Hutch squatting by his side, a streak of dried blood down the side of his face, his arm in a makeshift sling. 

I”m okay, but how about you?” Artie struggled to sit up and the strong arms easily assisted him.

“A concussion and broken wrist,” a third voice commented, followed by the appearance of indigo eyes and mop of dark hair. 

“I’ll be fine,” Hutch reassured. “I had a guardian angel. Looks like you did, too.” 

Artie turned to see that the hands that had been supporting him belonged to Jim West, his expression as cool as menthol. Artie thought he might be the only one to see the concern beneath the surface of the man’s chiseled features.

“What happened? Where’s Dr. Loveless?”

“Who knows?” Hutch said. “When the armonica started doing it’s thing the entire hotel collapsed. Jim took care of Cheech and Chong and got you out just in time, but we can’t find any sign of Dr. Loveless or Antoinette. They must have gotten buried in rubble.” 

Artie looked past the prone figures of Hector and Carlos to the remains of the hotel. All that was left was a mountain of lumber and a few deep, uneven crevices as if a giant had attempted to use a bottle opener to pry open the ground . 

“Poor devil,” Jim murmured. It was then Artie noticed the rip in Jim’s bolero jacket, the purpling bruise on his cheek, the deep scratches on his hands. The sympathy for a twisted soul.

All four men silently considered the doctor and his companion’s fate for a few minutes until Starsky broke in. “There’s nothing we can do for them now. We need to mount up and get back to the train before midnight. So that everything can get back to the way it was.”

The way it was. _As if it ever could be._


	8. Chapter 8

Artie was momentarily captivated by the sight of Jim’s exquisite form in tight leather chaps backlit by the gas lights on the wall. He’d just finished taking a few photos to memorialize their adventure on film and possibly defend the fact that they weren’t crazy. Then he looked at his watch. It was only a few minutes until midnight.

“You invent that clock on your wrist, Futureman?” Jim asked. He seemed ready to accept that Artie could do anything.

Artie smiled. He could get used to that husky tone. A pang of intense loneliness struck him. He realized he didn’t want to go back to the life he’d had before sharing a kiss with the man of his dreams. But maybe James West was just a dream. Maybe Artie was napping in the old Ford with Hutch at his side like so many times before. 

Hutch. He had to get back to reality with Hutch, his partner and best friend. Things weren’t so bad in 1973. 

Artie shook his head and looked down at his Timex Indiglo watch. He impulsively took it off, grabbed Jim’s hand and slipped it on his wrist. Then couldn’t bring himself to let go. 

“Here, James, my boy. A gift of time. If only we had more of it.” 

Jim looked at the watch as if it were made of finest gold. “Artemus. I can’t…” 

“Jim. Please. I want you to have something to remember me by.” 

“Alright. But in that case, I want you to have this.” Jim pulled away and picked up the violin case. It was battered and dust covered but still servable. He handed it to Artie. 

“The Stradivarius! You saved it!” Artie carefully brushed away some a patch of dirt on the leather case. “How?”

“I couldn’t find the Panasonic or Hutch’s Magnum, but I did happen to see this on the floor of the lobby as I was bringing you out. I grabbed it just before the hotel collapsed. I couldn’t leave it behind, knowing how much you seemed to cherish it.”

Artie gave him a weak smile. “I don’t remember. But you must know, Jim, what I really cherish most… I am about to leave behind.”

Jim stepped in close and placed his hands on Artie’s shoulders. “I know.”

A few feet away, Starsky stood before Hutch, swallowed and tried to speak but nothing was coming out. Hutch had a feeling a speechless Starsky was a rare event. He gave him a sad smile and drew him into a gentle, one-handed hug. 

Starsky briefly returned the embrace then pushed away with a look to Hutch’s bad arm, leaving Hutch unclear whether he was deferring to Hutch’s injury or embarrassed by the show of sentimentality. 

“I guess I should be grateful to Dr. Loveless for one thing, at least. His experiments with time. Otherwise, I never would have met you,” Starsky said haltingly. He brushed at something on his cheek and tipped his head until it rested on Hutch’s. “At least I’ll get to remember the day we had.” 

Hutch nodded, acknowledging the raw admission. “A part of me wishes I could stay.”

“All of me wishes you could stay.” Starsky confessed softly. “But there’s no telling what could happen if we mess with time. If we change anything that is supposed to happen or not happen, who knows? You may never even be born. And I can’t take that chance.” 

There was a burning in Hutch’s eyes that had nothing to do with the concussion. And you’ve been dead fifty years was a thought Hutch couldn’t accept. “I’ll never forget you.” 

Hutch reached behind Starsky’s head to grip the thick curls, pressing Starsky’s head tighter to his own. The intimacy felt odd but comforting at the same time. He had given up questioning the improbabilities that had brought them to this time and place, so why question what he was feeling?

The clock on the mantel made a soft click to usher in the day’s end. The first of the twelve chimes echoed in the varnish car like a death knell. 

Hutch traced Starsky’s features with trembling fingers as nearby, Artie found Jim’s lips, attempting to memorize the sensation he would never feel again. Much too soon they broke apart. Then Hutch and Artie stepped out the door of the train car, disappearing into the mist.

As the chimes of the clock faded away, Starsky came to stand by Jim who was still staring at the spot where Artie had been a moment ago.

“What do we do now?” 

Jim patted the hand on his shoulder. “We’ll help each other through, Starsk. Like we always do.”

ooOOoo

_Six weeks later. . ._

Artie knocked three times on Hutch’s door. “Come on Hutch, open up. I know you’re in there.”

“Doors unlocked,” came the dull reply.

Artie walked in and looked around. Hutch’s place looked like a frat house after a long weekend and smelled nearly as bad. Dirty dishes and even more empty beer cans were scattered about. Artie kicked away a pair of crumpled up corduroys to avoid stepping on them. He pushed aside a few half eaten Chinese food containers on the coffee table to make room for the Stradivarius he always seem to carry. 

Hutch didn’t look up. He sat on the couch staring at the TV. A Western showed on the screen but the sound was turned down. 

“What’s going on? You didn’t answer your phone.”

“I didn’t hear it ring.” 

Artie sighed and looked around for the phone. He found it buried under a t-shirt, the receiver off the hook.

“How’s the arm?” Artie asked as he righted the phone and sent the t-shirt to join the pants on the floor.

Hutch still wore the bandana Starsky had given him as a sling even though he hadn’t really needed it for two weeks. He pulled his wrist from its snug home and shook it out.

Artie nodded in approval then sat down beside him and looked at the TV screen. He didn’t bother to mention that Westerns had never been Hutch’s favorite genre. He put a hand on Hutch’s knee and gave it a tighter squeeze than he’d meant to. Watching the dashing men in cowboy hats and leather chaps was having a bittersweet effect. It was best to change the subject. 

“Look, Hutch,” he started. “Don’t shut yourself away from the rest of the world like this. Don’t shut yourself away from me. I know how you must feel, but we can get through this thing together.” 

“That’s just it, Artie. You don’t know how I feel. No one does.” Hutch’s eyes glowed like blue embers in the dim room.

Artie winced. He hated to play hard ball, but sometimes it was necessary. “You’re not the first man to get divorced, you know.”

Hutch straightened and threw the beer can he’d been clutching in his good hand across the room. It thunked against a wall and fell to floor, splattering its remaining contents as it went.

“Being heartbroken over a woman is one thing, Gordo. But why is it that since my wife walked out, all I can do is think of someone else? What the hell is wrong with me?”

Artie had asked himself the same question a thousand times. Why was it that the firm lines of a man held more appeal for him than the soft curves of a woman? Why did he feel the need to run from place to place, play role after role to hide who he really was? With Hutch he'd found a tightly knit bond that would be unthinkable to break. But their relationship could only go so far. He would never push Hutch for something he wasn’t prepared to give. 

“Same thing that’s wrong with me, partner,” Artie found himself saying. It was the closest he’d come in weeks to referring to what had happened to them. Neither men had spoken of their trip back in time. About a mad scientist and his beautiful companion. About two secret service agents who traveled in a luxurious train car. To do so might be to have the police shrink tell them it was all just a hallucination. That Hutch had hit his head and injured his wrist when the Galaxie had come to rough stop along the road. That their shared mirage was the result of a long, cold night spent lost in the mist-shrouded woods.


	9. Chapter 9

Hutch turned to him and their silent communication seemed to jolt him with an electrical shock. He jumped to his feet, then swayed unsteadily. 

Artie stood up next to him and grabbed his arm. “Steady there. When was the last time you ate something?

Hutch pointed to some congealed food in a greasy paper box. “I ate. Yesterday, I think.”

Artie grimaced. “How about I grill you a cheese sandwich just like my great Aunt Maude used to make.”

Artie set the unsteady man back down on the couch and Hutch once again became engrossed in the scenes on the TV. A steam-powered train chugged across the terrain on the screen, its whistle barely audible. Artie steeled himself and headed for the kitchen. His partner needed him.

A few minutes later, Artie presented Hutch with a golden brown grilled cheese sandwich with a hint of thyme butter. He was encouraged when Hutch took a tentative bite.

“How about some dinner music, Hutch? I’ve had this song stuck in my head.” He snapped off the TV set and took out the violin that he now never seemed to be without. Music had become his solace, tying him to his memories of angels.

_You and the world we knew will glow, till my life is through;_  
_For you're part of me from this day on._  
_And someday if I should love, it's you I'll be dreaming of,_  
_For you're all I'll see from this day on._

_These hurried hours were all the life we could share._  
_Still, I will go with not a tear, just a prayer_  
_That when we are far apart, you'll find something from your heart_  
_Has gone! Gone with me from this day on._ * 

Artie’s voice couldn’t hold the last note and he closed his eyes.

“You do understand. Don’t you, Gordo?” he heard Hutch ask softly.

Artie nodded and put away his violin. He turned to Hutch with a sad smile.

“It's time I admitted something to you, Hutch. It’s not something that I’m ashamed of, it’s just that, well, it’s something most people don’t understand.” He looked his partner in the eye and once again was reminded of how Hutch wasn’t ‘most people.’ 

”I’m gay.”

Hutch didn’t look away. “I had wondered. But I figured it’s none of my business who you love or how you love. Look at me. I loved a woman and it all fell apart.”

“Thanks partner. A lesser man would have been disgusted or thrown me to the wolves.”

“Artie! You are my partner, my best friend … my big brother. I could never turn my back on you…”

Artie held up a hand. “I know, Hutch. And I love you for that. I’ve always prided myself on being under the radar. I’ve lived my life as one long undercover assignment. Till Jim West came into my life. I felt a connection with him I've never felt before.” 

Artie bowed his head. “But in this life he’s dead. And I’m not even allowed to mourn. . .”

Hutch patted the sofa cushion. “Come here, Artie. Sit.”

Artie sat down heavily and was assured he’d done the right thing when Hutch reached an arm around his shoulder and pulled him close.

“You can mourn, Artie. We both can. We have each other. And our memories. Thank God at least they weren’t taken from us.”

Artie brightened a bit at the thought. He reached into his jacket and pulled out an envelope. “I guess now is as good a time as any to look at these. They’re the pictures I took on the train before we left. I just got the nerve to pick them up today.”

Artie handed Hutch the envelope and Hutch rook out the glossy photos of Jim, Starsky and the Wanderer. Hutch slowly ran his fingers across each one as if they could be absorbed through his fingertips. Starsky with his wild hair and sparkling eyes, Jim in his fit-like-a-glove pants and vest and his self-assured demeanor.

Hutch took a deep breath, put down the photos and stroked the bandana covering his arm. “They were real. It was real.” He looked up at Artie with an expression that was painful to see, because it was a reflection of Artie’s own torment. 

“I miss him, Artie. There’s this hole . . . this vast emptiness inside me. Did I fall in love with him, Artie? Is this what real love feels like? It’s so different from what I had with Vanessa.”

Artie nodded. He remembered when he first came to accept that he felt more for a man that he did for a woman. It had taken him down a long and winding road. Hutch had his own path of self-discovery to follow. 

“Perhaps we are both suffering from the same malady, my boy. But I actually feel less lonely now than before I met James West. I think real loneliness is not loving in vain, but rather, not loving at all.”

Hutch nodded slowly. “It was never love with Vanessa. I can see that now. Love is hard to understand isn’t it? I knew Van since we were teenagers, but just twenty-four hours with a curly-haired cowboy showed me timeless love. It changed me forever.”

“Let’s go for a drive, Hutch. Get out and get some air.” And maybe get some closure, he thought.

ooOOoo

They hadn’t intended to go so far but the Galaxie seemed to have a mind of its own. They drove for hours. It was nearly midnight when they pulled off at a familiar spot right outside of Tehachapi. They both climbed out of the car and looked down the overgrown strips of steel that indicated a railroad track had once been there.

“Dr. Loveless must have been quite a genius,” Hutch commented. “Just think what he might have accomplished if he wouldn’t have had such a twisted mind.” 

“Yes,” Artie agreed. “I did some research to see if there was any mention of him in old scientific journals. I even called the International Society for the Study of Time to see if anyone had heard of him.”

Hutch looked at him quizzically. “The International Society for the Study of Time?” Is there really such a thing?”

“Sure there is. It was formed in 1966 to bring to together scholars from all different disciplines in order to study time.” Artie’s face reddened slightly. “I happened to mention our experience - hypothetically, of course - to see what anyone thought of it.”

“What did they say?” Hutch voice sparked with excitement. It would be nice to know if there was someone else out there didn’t think he was crazy. 

“As a matter of fact,” Artie hesitated. He dreaded to give Hutch any more reason to grieve, but other than his sexual orientation, he had never held anything back from his partner. “A physicist from a facility in Sweden called me the other day. Said he’d heard about my inquiry and wanted to discuss it further.”

Hutch felt light headed. “Really? What did he have to say?”

“Well, you know how Starsky and Jim had explained that if any of us were to inhabit another place in time, that time as we knew it would cease to exist?”

“Yeah?” Hutch shivered. The cool night air caressed the back of his neck and the leaves sighed in the trees. 

Artie swallowed. He had tried to tell himself he hadn’t understood the man correctly. The same strongly accented words that had invaded his dreams now fought with reason in his head, eager to get out. “He said that if two people - one from each side of the time gap - were to switch places, the balance of time could be maintained.”

Hutch stood motionless. A star-lit statue.

“I guess it was something that Dr. Loveless hadn‘t thought of. Or if he did, he hadn’t told anyone.”

“Two people from different decades switching places. Each giving up their world as they know it.” Hutch murmured.

“To be with someone they love.” Artie finished the thought. “Unbelievable, right?”

Hutch looked at him. “But wouldn’t they also be leaving someone they love behind?”

Artie’s heart twisted with pleasure/pain. For someone who had once been so wretchedly lonely and confused, he realized he’d come to be doubly blessed.


	10. Chapter 10

The wind picked up and changed to a whistling howl. The ground trembled beneath their feet and at first the same thought flew into both their minds. _Earthquake._ But then they saw a large headlight pierce the darkness as a steam-powered locomotive chugged toward them. 

They stepped back away from the track as the train slowed to a stop. The door of the varnish car opened and David Starsky and James West stepped out.

ooOOoo

“What’s happening?” Hutch reached for Artie’s arm as if grasping to the edge of reality.

Starsky hopped down to the ground as lithely as a cat. “Does it matter?” His grin was infectious as Hutch had remembered. 

“A few weeks after you left, Dr. Loveless sent us a letter,” Jim said. “Turns out, he wasn’t killed by the hotel collapse after all. It’ll take more than an earthquake to kill that devil.”

Somehow, Artie wasn’t surprised. “What did he say?” he asked, unable to take his gaze from Jim’s perfect face in the moonlight.

“Something about how he hadn’t figured out yet how to fix the rip in time,” Starsky started to explain, “but that if one person from each decade decided to switch places. . .” 

“The balance of time would be maintained,” Artie finished. 

“But why would someone as evil as Dr. Loveless throw us a bone like that?” asked Hutch. “There’s got to be a catch.”

“Miguelito likes to keep us guessing. But don’t worry. We can handle him.” James West’s calm, self-assurance served to keep them centered. 

“What year is it now?”

“We’re somewhere in between space and time, my boy,” Artie perceived as clearly as if someone had just whispered in his ear. “Of all the laws of nature, love is the most powerful.”

“And the least understood.” Jim added as he leaned forward on the railing.

“It plays by its own rules.” Starsky gave the group another of his crooked smiles.

“Are you thinking what I’m thinking?” Hutch said, to no one in particular.

“I wouldn’t mind seeing what the future will be like,” announced Starsky.

“I’ve always been a bit of a history buff,” Artie admitted. 

He turned from Jim to look hesitantly back at Hutch who gave him a little nod. How can you tell someone how much you mean to them? How much you’ll miss them? For as long as they’d know each other they seemed to communicate best without words. That little nod seemed to say it all.

Before he could change his mind, Artie grabbed hold of the railing and climbed the steps of the varnish car to join Jim. Jim tossed his arm over Artie’s shoulder and called to Starsky, “Have a nice life, partner.” The movement looked casual but Artie could feel the strong man use him as a brace.

“You, too, Jim.” Starsky turned his face toward the trees for a minute before he went to stand by Hutch.

The smoke stack threw a puff of steam high into the air as the engine chugged back to life.

“Wait!” Hutch called. He ran back to the Galaxie and retrieved the violin Artie had placed in the back seat. “Don’t forget the Strad.” 

“Thanks.” Artie’s dark eyes shimmered as Hutch handed him up the violin case. “I won’t forget you either, Hutch.”

“Take this.” Jim pulled a gold pocket watch and chain out of his turquoise vest and held it out to Hutch. Moonlight danced across its surface as it dangled in Jim’s hand. “I have the time piece Artie gave me, so I won’t be needing it. Just a little something else to remember us by.” 

Hutch clenched the watch in his palm as if gripping a talisman and tried to focus on its cool weight, rather than the thought of never seeing his partner, friend and confidante again. 

“Hey Hutch,” Artie called as the train began to move away. “It’s going to be alright. You’ll see. Just don’t be afraid to follow your heart..” 

**EPILOGUE**

Hutch emerged from the kitchen to find that his partner had made himself comfortable on Hutch’s couch, thumbing through some magazines. He pushed Starsky’s feet off the coffee table and turned down the volume on the TV that was blaring a shoot-out between cowboys and Indians. 

Starsky paid little attention to Hutch’s movements but Hutch was only mildly annoyed. Why shouldn’t Starsky make himself at home? He was there practically as much as Hutch was. In fact, Hutch had to admit he couldn’t imagine life without the lummox. The thought sent a cold chill deep in his chest and Hutch literally shook himself to get rid of the strange feeling.

Starsky looked up from the envelope he’d found mixed in the magazines. “What is it, Hutch? You look like you saw a ghost.” 

“It’s nothing.” Hutch sat down next to Starsky and looked over at the envelope. “What do you have there?”

“I was just going to ask you. I found these photos under your stack of ‘Birds and Blooms’ but I can’t place these guys. Looks like they were playing dress up at one of those old time photo booths.”

Hutch took the pictures from Starsky and studied them. They had been taken in what looked like the interior of an old-fashioned train varnish car. Some of the shots were oddly devoid of subjects but others held the images of two men. The younger of the two was exceptionally athletic-looking in a bolero jacket and form-fitting slacks. The slightly older man wore a corduroy jacket and glowed with warm intelligence. 

Their arms were slung over each other’s shoulders and wide smiles beamed from their faces, but there was something sad about the picture, too. The eyes of the older man held him captive although he couldn’t seem to place him.

After a few minutes Starsky removed the picture gently from Hutch’s hand. “Do you recognize either of them?”

Hutch felt a lump in his throat. “No,” he reluctantly admitted.

Starsky patted Hutch’s knee and the touch made a direct beeline to Hutch’s heart. “Don’t worry, blondie. It’ll come to you in time.”

**FIN**


End file.
